


Roger Peralta

by abigailmaedy



Series: Before the Badge- A B99 Prequel [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Jake thinks it's his fault, Jake's dad leaves, Other, Young Jake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7554106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigailmaedy/pseuds/abigailmaedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake has two memories that stand out the most for him when he thinks of Roger Peralta- the day he left, and five years later, when he returned for the first time. Jake was able to see in those moments that Roger wasn't perfect, and that was when Jake first started to hate just how much he trusted people. </p><p>This obviously takes place WAY before adult Jake ever becomes a cop. This is part one of my prequel series to my series The Snags, which is complete and can also be found on my account! Critiques are welcome and appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sal's Pizza

       There were few days of the week that left a young Jake Peralta with energy after the school bell had rung. If it were up to him, on any day other than Tuesdays, Jake would have meandered sluggishly home, backpack bouncing against his knees, baseball cap on just a little bit crooked. Little tufts of hair would peak out and he’d laugh when his buddies came up behind him on his path and bopped the brim of the hat down in front of his eyes. He’d get home, kick off his shoes (remembering only when his mom pestered him that they didn’t  _ actually  _ belong anywhere he wanted), and lay across the couch watching cartoons until dinner. Sometimes, Gina would come over and he’d let her win at video games (or so he’d convince her).

       But  _ Tuesday  _ was different. Tuesday meant baseball practice with his dad and his team. It meant the potential for pizza at Sal’s and because his parents worked so much, there was nothing better to him than those guaranteed evenings out. He would sprint home on those days, backpack nearly taking out his little legs with every stride, burst through the front door, and get dressed in his uniform. His dad would be sitting on the couch when he flew by with a beer in his hand, and shout  _ ‘slow down, slugger!’  _ as Jake sprinted into his room. They would laugh. They would bond. They would go to games on the weekend and on those days pizza was  _ guaranteed.  _

       It was the last week of school, three days before the end of the year, and Jake was about as excited for Summer as any second grader in their right mind. He was tapping his pencil impatiently against his desk while his teacher passed out their final homework assignment: a short paragraph to be turned in the next day, ‘What I’m most excited for this Summer.’ Jake already knew he’d be writing about baseball with his dad and shoved the paper into his backpack, darting out of the room as soon as the bell chimed and pulling his scrunched up baseball cap from his back pocket. He threw it on his head as soon as he was on the sidewalk and sprinted with the reckless abandon for one’s lungs that children seem to possess. 

       Gina met him along the way and ran alongside him for a block. “Hey Jake, wanna come over for movies after practice?” She huffed, notebook in-hand. Her light up sketchers glowed and beamed with every heavy step. 

       “Can’t!” Jake grinned, “We’re doing pizza after practice! Sorry!” He continued on and Gina waved him off at the break in their streets. 

       Jake rounded the corner to his house and sprinted up the front steps, grinning at his dad, who was seated on the living room couch where he always was on Tuesdays. “Slow down, slugger!” He patted his son on the back as the smaller Peralta ran by, and took a sip of his beer. 

       Jake dropped his backpack, dug through his dirty laundry for his uniform, and scrambled to get dressed. He checked his hat in the mirror, straightening it out, then pulled up his socks, which were slightly too big and would scrunch up around the knees if he wasn’t mindful.  _ Gotta look good for Dad’s team!  _

       Jake emerged from the living room and climbed over the back of the couch, plopping next to his dad, who grumbled about the sloshing of his beer and then promptly rose to his feet. “You ready to go, kiddo?” 

       Jake grinned, his two adult teeth just beginning to pop through what were otherwise gaps in the front of his mouth, and hopped to his feet. “We get pizza tonight, right? Yesterday you said-”

       “Yeah, yeah, slugger! I remember.” Roger Peralta patted Jake on the shoulder, pushing him towards the door. “We’ll go to Sal’s. Your mom’s working tonight so nobody’s here to cook anyway.” 

_______________________________

       After practice, Jake and a few of his friends from the team agreed to meet his dad at Sal’s while Roger ran home to drop off the baseball gear from his car. Jake, who was too excited to go eat pizza with his dad at “the best pizza joint in Brooklyn”, didn’t think much of the oddly-timed errand his father had set off to do and walked with his friends the two blocks to the pizzeria. Sal greeted them from inside and they quickly found a seat. Then, they waited. 

       After an hour, Jake’s friends became suspicious. “Is this a prank, Peralta?”

       “What’s takin’ your dad, so long, Jake?” 

       “My mom’s gonna be mad if I’m not home soon.” 

       But Jake only smiled, reassuring them that it must be traffic, and if they had to go, they’d have pizza on Saturday anyway. After another forty-five minutes, the boys departed, apologizing as they went and leaving Jake to twiddle his thumbs alone. Sal, who had been eyeing Jake from behind the counter, brought the boy a slice of pepperoni and sat down beside him. “Here kid, eat up.” Sal dropped the plate in front of Jake, who hesitated before rolling the piece of pizza up like a burrito and taking a bite. “Where’s your pops?” Sal asked, leaning against the wobbly wooden table. 

       Jake shrugged, “He’s in traffic. He had to drop off the baseball gear.” Jake managed through a mouthful of food. 

       “You sure he was supposed to meet you here?” Sal raised a brow and motioned for a waiter to bring over a soda. 

       Jake nodded, a grin still on his face. “He’s just an old slowpoke.” He swallowed and wiped his face on the back of his hand. 

       The waiter placed two sodas down on the table and Sal lifted his. “Cheers, kid.” 

       Jake raised a brow and grabbed the cup. “For what?” 

       “Just…” Sal nodded slowly. “For you. For bein’ a good kid.” 

       “Thanks, Sal!” Jake gave him a toothless grin and took a swig of the soda, burping and proceeding to break into a fit of giggles. Sal patted him on the back with a chuckle and went back to the counter. 

       Jake finished his pizza and waited some more. He swung his feet under the table and adjusted his socks from time-to-time. After another hour, Jake stopped smiling. After another, the sun was set and Sal’s was packed with families all laughing and eating. The afternoon was over and Jake began to worry that his dad had been in some kind of accident.  _ Or maybe he just forgot, and he’s sitting at home drinking a beer. _ That was okay to Jake. That was preferable to anything bad happening to Roger Peralta. He didn’t mind being forgotten just this once. 

       Jake waited fifteen more minutes and then pulled a wad of quarters and crumpled dollars from his pocket, walking up to the counter. “Hey, I think my dad might have forgotten. Can I get a slice to go?” He tried to offer Sal a smile but felt a burning behind his eyes. 

       “Don’t worry about it kid, it’s on me.” Sal stepped away and came back with a single slice in a box. “You get home safe.” 

       Jake shoved his money back in his pocket and gave the older man a departing “thanks” as he headed out the door. 

       Jake had never walked home alone in the dark before. The streets didn’t have all of the nice faces he was used to seeing during the day, and he found that every corner on the six-block journey left him startled. He didn’t like night-time all by himself. By the third block, everything was blurry and despite the warmth of the summer breeze, the tear trails that had formed down either of the little boy’s pink cheeks were bitten by the wind. Jake’s chest was tight when he rounded the final corner home, and he was running, pizza box close to his chest. He clambered up the front steps and into the house, freezing at the emptiness inside. Jake walked slowly to the couch and peered over it to the coffee table, where a few beers lay strewn. He crept into the kitchen and found that his dad’s work badge wasn’t sitting on the counter, and neither was the tin of emergency money he kept there no matter what. Jake placed the pizza box on the counter and backpedaled, running into his parents’ room and switching on the light. 

       Jake was sobbing. He couldn’t help it, and he definitely didn’t like it. But his nose and eyes were running, saliva was pooled on his lower lip, and his chest was heaving as he stared across the room at all of his dad’s empty dresser drawers, still open. Jake walked around the bed and hopped up to pull the string that brought the closet light to life. His dad’s side bore only empty hangers. None of his shoes were on the shelves. Jake groaned deep in his chest as a loneliness unlike anything he’d ever felt before set in.  _ He left for good. He left for good.  _

       Jake went into his parents’ bathroom and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks were bright red and splotchy, his hair was a mess, and- Jake crumpled to the floor.  _ I forgot my cap at Sal’s. I forgot my cap.  _ Jake sat there on the floor, hands braced on the cold tile, and cried for his mother, who would be working until the morning. He cried for his father, too, who he thought he may never see again.  _ What did I do? How am I going to tell Mom?  _ Jake scrambled to his feet and eyed the half-empty cup that used to contain both his parents’ toothbrushes, but now only held one. Still sobbing, Jake ran to the living room and dialled up Sal’s pizza, getting the man himself on the third ring. He tried to control his voice, explained that he’d left his hat and that he’d get it the following day. Sal assured him he’d keep good care of it and not to worry, and Jake hung up. He continued to stare at the phone, and then called Gina. 

       “Hello?” The little voice chimed through the line. 

       “G-Gina?” Jake blubbered. 

       “Jake?”

       “My dad left.” Jake’s voice broke, and Gina didn’t respond, just letting her friend sob through the phone. 

       After a few minutes, Gina said, “I’ll come over after my Mom goes to bed.” And then she hung up. Jake grabbed a tissue from the box beside the telephone, and when he realized one wouldn’t be enough, grabbed several more until his face was all cleaned up. He continued to weep even still, and moved to the couch, turning the cartoons up louder than his mother ever liked and laying down beneath a blanket. Two hours later, Gina appeared at his door, breathless, and pulled Jake into a hug. “My dad’s always been gone. It’ll be okay.” 

       She curled up next to him on the couch and they fell asleep snuggled close. Jake woke up several times in the night, only to break down in tears until he cried himself to sleep again. Gina’s mother came by in the morning, furious at her daughter for only as long as it took to look from the girl to Jake, who was puffy-eyed and alone. Jake spent the better part of an hour begging her not to call his mom, explaining that he needed to be the one to tell Karen what had happened, pleading with her to just wait. Darlene had eventually caved and wrapped the little boy in her arms, whispering, “It’s okay.” Over and over as Jake apologized again and again for crying. 

_______________________________________

       When Karen arrived home, Jake was sitting on the front steps, still in his baseball uniform. “What are you doing up, hon?” She stared down at him. “Did you sleep in your uniform?” 

       “Sit down, Mom.” Jake said, his voice dry. He patted the empty space beside him and Karen put her purse down with some hesitation and joined her son on the steps. 

       “What’s going on?” She asked, resting a hand on his knee.

       Jake’s lower lip wobbled and he gazed at his mother, whose brows were knit with worry. Her image became blurred and he wiped at his eyes. “I did something really bad and I’m really sorry.” 

       Karen leaned back against the wood railing. “Okay?” 

       “I-” Jake faltered, taking a deep breath. “I think I did something to make Dad stop loving us yesterday.” Jake leaned his elbows against his knees. “Mom-”  _ No crying! No crying!  _ “Mom, Dad never came to Sal’s and I think I did something to make him stop loving us, be-be-be-because all of his stuff is gone and he took the money tin,” He stuttered. Jake felt that grumble in his chest again and failed to fight back a sob. “He took all of his shoes and everything and I don’t think he’s coming back. And I had to walk home in the dark, and I left my hat at the pizza place, and-” He was pretty sure she couldn’t understand what he was saying at that point, that he was just a ball of unintelligible mumbling and sobs. 

       “Jake! Jake, honey! Stop!” Jake had never heard a combination of softness and crisis like that before, and when he stopped talking and wiped at his eyes enough to look up at his mother, she was crying, too. “Honey, why didn’t you call me?” 

       “You- you- you- you were working.” He cried, climbing into her lap and nuzzling his face into the nape of her neck. “And I didn’t want- want- want you to be mad at me for making Dad go.” 

       Jake continued to sob, settling against his mother’s frame as she wrapped her arms tightly around him and began to rock him. “Honey, you didn’t make your Dad stop loving us. You didn’t do anything, I promise.” She kissed his head and pulled him in until he was almost suffocating in her embrace. “Your dad left because that was what he wanted to do. That wasn’t because of us. He loves you, I promise.” She continued to rock him, running her hand up and down his back. 

       “He forgot me at the pizza place.” Jake sobbed, running his fingers through her hair and wiping his eyes on her neck. 

       “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” She stifled a sob of her own and continued to hold her son. “I’m so sorry.” 

       Jake let her hold him. It didn’t matter that he was technically almost a third grader, that third graders weren’t supposed to let their mom’s hold them like babies. He needed his mom. He needed to touch her hair and give her kisses and make sure she knew he still loved her and he wasn’t going to stop like Dad. He thought about how he was going to go to school later that day, and realized with another sob that he didn’t know what to say he was looking forward to for Summer anymore.


	2. Converse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger Peralta arrives out of the blue, just in time for Jake's twelfth birthday, and Jake is torn between trusting and loving his dad and the short time he is able to spend with him, and forming his opinions about his dad based on how the people around him react to the man. Sal, Gina, Karen, and Jake's friends seem to think the guy is scum. But, how can Jake hate his own dad?
> 
> Takes place long before Jake becomes a cop. This series is a prequel to my series "The Snags", and like with everything I write, I try to make it possible to read each piece independently of its sister works. So, while you're waiting on an update for this, be sure to check out that equally angsty and totally complete series. Criticism welcome!

       In the days leading up to Jake’s twelfth birthday, he was at his mom’s house every afternoon, working with Gina on perfecting what she called her “model face”, which was, also in her words, “the most incredible makeup possible for these glorious cheekbones.” She would sit, legs crossed and eyes closed, and let Jake copy the makeup of girls on the fronts of whatever beauty magazines Gina had stolen on her way home from school that week. And, for a girl halfway between sixth and seventh grade, Gina had an impressive amount of makeup (“Every day my mom gives me a dollar for chores and I buy as much makeup as I can at the end of the week.” She had once explained to Jake).

       “So,” Jake drawled, tongue to his lip as he moved the eyeliner as slowly as he could along Gina’s lid. “You gonna drop the model face at my party this Saturday?”

       “Honey,” Gina grinned, waving her hand. “ _Nobody_ is ready for this level of beauty yet. This fine piece of art will be displayed in high school, when the boys’ voices have dropped and their muscle tone has _significantly improved._ ” Gina’s eyes were still closed but somehow managed to perform what was, most easily put, a closed-eyed wink.

       “Whatever,” He mused, finishing the eyeliner for the other eye and fanning them with his fingers. “I’m always at my peak.”

       Gina snorted, opening her eyes just a crack. “Are you jealous, Jakey? You want all of this,” Gina motioned to her face and body, “To yourself?” Of course, she didn’t quite understand what she was implying, but predicted it had something to do with making out on a couch and playing video games.

       “No, ew!” Jake scoffed, pushing her shoulders. “You’re like my sister! Nobody macks on their sister!”

       “Well, I think you two would make a cute couple.” A voice sounded from the front door and both Jake and Gina jumped, turning to face the stranger in the entryway.

       Roger Peralta stood clad in his pilot’s uniform, a small duffel bag in-hand and a grin on his face. He was a little heavier-set than Jake, who was standing and staring with his mouth open, had remembered. “Dad?”

       “Hey, slugger!” Roger grinned, dropping his bag and opening his arms.

       Jake didn’t move, only continuing to stare at the man, who was now only a few inches taller than him, from his spot just behind Gina. Gina glanced over at Jake and then excused herself, meandering down the hallway, footsteps ceasing at the closing of Jake’s bedroom door. “What are you doing here?” Jake asked.

       “Well, I-” Roger dropped his arms, his grin faltering. “I came to see my boy turn twelve.”

       Jake’s stomach flipped and he couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face. “You’re coming to my birthday party?”

       “Of course! It’s this Friday, right?” Roger shut the front door and stepped into the house.

       “It’s on Saturday.” Jake corrected, stepping up to his dad and wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. “It’s gonna be awesome! All my friends are coming and I can finally prove to them-” Jake paused. “Nevermind.” _They’ll finally stop calling you a deadbeat._

       “Hey,” Roger patted Jake on the back and pulled out of the hug. “What do you say we go grab some pizza? I saw Sal’s was open while I was driving in!”

       Jake’s ribs constricted and he heaved a breath. “I mean- I was there yesterday. Are you sure you wanna go there? Are you really gonna go?” Jake took a step back and Roger frowned, bending down to his knees so that he was kneeled shorter than the boy before him.

       “Jakey, I’m really sorry about what happened back then. But I swear, I’m not gonna leave you at Sal’s. Let’s head over together, okay?” Roger offered a smile and Jake nodded with some hesitation. “Get your shoes.”

___________________________________

       On their walk to Sal’s, Roger and Jake walked side by side, the younger boy grinning up at his dad. “Hey, why are those so worn out? Why doesn’t your mom get you a new pair?” Roger asked, pointing down at the ratty off-brand sneakers. Jake eyed his shoes, suddenly more aware than he’d ever been of their holes, shriveling seams, and soles which were unglued at the front and flopping slightly when he walked.

       “I haven’t asked.” Jake shrugged. “They still fit.”

       “Come on, a boy needs a nice pair of shoes!” Roger countered, opening the door to let Jake through as they arrived at the pizzeria. “How about we go buy a pair right after this?”

       “Really?” Jake beamed, a grin spread across his face.

       “Yeah, sure! Call it an early birthday present.” Roger nodded, waving to a waiter. “Pepperoni and root beer?” He asked, smiling down at his son.

       “Like always.” _He remembers._

       Sal walked up to the table after the waiter had gone, and took the empty seat beside Jake. “Roger.” He said flatly, staring across the table at the pilot.

       “Hey,” Roger drawled, a nervous smile on his lips. “How you been, Sal?”

       “I been good. I been takin’ good care of your boy, here.” Sal thumbed at Jake, who was pink-faced.

       “Sal helps me with my math homework.” Jake smiled shyly, nudging Sal with his elbow. “He taught me how to write slow so the teacher doesn’t get mad about my dysgraphia.”

       “Yeah, your boy came in once a week during school. He dropped in one day and asked if I knew math ‘cause I had to count the cash at this place.” Sal smiled fondly. Jake was more aware of Roger’s frown. “Of course, I don’t know math like no pilot, but we can’t all be around for the good stuff, huh?”

       Roger opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. “Thanks.” He finally muttered. 

       “Yeah, thanks is right.” Sal looked down at Jake and back to Roger. “This is a great kid you’ve got here.” He stood up from the table and patted Jake on the shoulder. “Your pizza’s on me, Jakey.” He eyed Roger as he walked away. “You can pay for your’s, Roger. God knows you owe it.”  

       Jake stared down at the table, face hot and eyes burning. “Sorry about that.” He whispered.

       “What?” Roger leaned back in his chair. “No, Jake. _I’m_ sorry about that. Sal’s right, I’ve really let you down.”

       Jake smiled, wiping his sleeve across his face. “I get it, you know?” He shrugged. “You’ve got a lot to do. You’re the best pilot in the world. You’re busy.”

       “Right.” Roger nodded. “Yeah.”

_________________________________________

       At the shoe store, Jake made for the sneakers he always bought, some variation of what looked liked Converse but were really a less sustainable knock-off. He reached for a black pair and Roger grabbed his hand. “Go grab the real thing, kid. It’s your birthday.”

       Jake’s brows furrowed. “Isn’t that too expensive?” He asked, looking up at his dad.

       “I’m a pilot! I think I can afford a good pair of shoes for my son.” He nudged Jake down the aisle and the boy darted to where he knew the shoes he was always eyeing were, a pair of black Converse Star Techs.

       “These?” Jake asked with excitement, pulling the sneakers off the rack and waving them in front of his dad.

       “Go for it, kiddo!” Roger waved absently and the boy grinned, trying for his size then running up to the register before his dad could change his mind.

       Jake watched in awe as his dad pulled a one hundred dollar bill from his pocket and payed for the shoes, which Jake promptly slipped on, the tags cut away. “Thanks, dad!” Jake grinned, staring down at his feet. _My friends are gonna be so pumped._

      They took a cab home and despite the disappointment of not being able to show his new shoes off to people on the streets, he climbed in behind his dad with a smile. “You’ve really let your hair grow.” Roger said, giving the boy perhaps the first once-over since he’d returned home that day. “It’s all shaggy.” He ran a hand through the curls and Jake chuckled, nudging him.

       “It’s the style, Dad.” He said, running his own hand through his hair.

       “Ah,” Roger nodded. “It’s what the ladies like, too, huh?”  

       Jake’s face was bright red and he scrunched his nose. “I guess-”

       “Or maybe, more specifically Gina?” He grinned at his son.

       “No!” Jake rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a crush on Gina! Everyone keeps saying-” Jake’s stomach flipped and he froze. “Oh my god. We forgot Gina at the house.”

       Roger shrugged. “She’s a big girl, I’m sure she’s fine-” 

       “Dad, you don’t just ditch people places!” Jake exclaimed, his heart pounding and sweat building on his forehead. “I completely forgot!” Jake was practically bouncing in his seat, hands shaking as they neared the house. He was out the door right as the cab came to a stop and sprinting up the steps, swinging the front door open and stopping short in his entryway. Gina sat on the couch, knees to her chest, a bowl of popcorn resting beside her. “Gina!”

       “Oh,” Gina looked up. “Hey loser.”

       “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m such an asshole!” Jake scrambled around the couch and dropped down in front of Gina, grabbing her still made-up face. “Are you okay?”

       Gina swatted his hands away and threw a piece of popcorn at him. “What are you doing, weirdo? I’m fine!”

      “We left you here!” Jake sniffed, eyes burning. 

      “Oh.” Gina dropped her handful of popcorn back into the bowl and smiled sheepishly down at Jake. “I heard you guys leave, it’s all good.”

       Jake heaved a sigh and pressed his face into the couch cushion beside Gina, groaning. “Thank god.” He managed through muffled cushion.

       “Yeah, relax. You’re messing with my Summer vibe.” She patted him on the head and he sat up. Roger was watching them from the entryway.

       “Hey,” Roger’s face was pale. “I’m just- I’m gonna go to my motel, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He asked. “We’ll have dinner with your mom.”

       “Dad, wait-” Jake stood and Roger backed away.

       “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, son. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and Jake threw his arms up in exasperation as the man closed the front door behind him, duffle bag in-hand, and made his way for the cab still waiting at the curb.

       Jake watched from the window. “He’s gone again.” _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

       “He’ll be back, don’t worry.” Gina offered.

       “How do you know?” Jake watched gaze at the television and she shrugged.

       “My dad’s been around twice. Both times, he didn’t leave until he got something he needed.” Gina patted the couch next to her and Jake joined her, sinking in.

       “He got me new shoes.” He said, pointing down at his feet.

       “Damn.” Gina drawled. “Fancy!”

       “I know, I’m like a rich kid.” He chuckled.

       “You’re like a hella rich kid. I can’t believe you got those, son!” Gina offered Jake some popcorn.

       He popped a piece in his mouth. “You really think- You really think he’s here for something?”

       Gina shrugged. “Probably. Maybe he needs money or something.”

       “But, the shoes-”

       “No, I mean like real money. He’s a pilot staying in a motel.” Gina tossed another handful of popcorn into his mouth and Jake reached over her to do the same.

_______________________________

        Gina was right. The next day, after Jake and his parents had sat down for what was the most awkward dinner in the history of existence, Jake excused himself to his room and listened through the walls to Roger and Karen’s quiet bickering in the livingroom.

       “You show up _out of nowhere-_ ”

       “Karen, please. I’m going to lose my house!”

       “You just bought Jake an eighty dollar pair of shoes!”

       “That was pocket money!”

       “Roger! I can’t afford to just cough up a thousand dollars! And what’s your plan anyway? Grab the money and disappear again?”

       “I- I mean I have a job to get back to.”   

       “You promised Jake you’d be at his birthday party. His friends are always teasing him about you, and I’m sure he was very excited to show you off! If I give you this money, are you just gonna disappear tonight?” 

       There was a pause and Jake’s heart pounded out four beats in his ears. “I have a flight I have to catch-”

       “Roger!”   

       “I’m sorry! I’ll make it to the next one!” 

       “You’ve been saying that for years.” Karen sighed. “You know what? Fine. I’ll write you the goddamn check but if you aren’t at that party on Saturday, you’re never getting another dime from me.” 

       “Thank you, Karen, thank you!” There was a shuffling of feet and then a loud slap. 

       “Don’t you touch me! I’ll write the check, go say goodbye to Jake.” Heavy footsteps made for Jake’s room and he hopped across the floor to his bed, grabbing his copy of The Squad and flipping to a random page. 

       There was a light wrap and the door opened. “Hey, slugger.” Roger smiled. “I’m heading back to the hotel, but I’ll see you Saturday for your party, okay?” He pointed at the shoes Jake still had on his feet. “Take good care of those.”    

       “I will, Dad. See you Saturday.” He smiled at Roger and the older man departed, shutting his door as he left. Jake sighed.

       When Saturday rolled around, Jake thought he was prepared for his dad’s absenteeism, but still checked the door with a skip in his heart every time a new guest arrived. Karen was sipping a glass of red wine over ice and bracing a fake smile for all of the guests. That evening, after everyone had gone and the house was empty but for the two of them, Jake decided that just this one last time it was okay to cry on his mother’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to talk about my writing style for this piece, because I know it's a little different from my usual flow. When my dad would come around while I was growing up, he'd be in town for anywhere from a day to several weeks before disappearing all over again, and the things I remember most are the little gifts he would try to rope me in with and the way other people responded to his presence. Having a deadbeat dad is a confusing thing for a kid. I imagine that as a father, Roger Peralta was probably about as present as mine- He'd arrive, brag, play the loving part, and disappear. I hope I've encapsulated that. Criticism is always welcome!


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